


No Place for a Hero

by MangaFreak15



Series: Arrancar Ichigo [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arrancar Ichigo, Arrancar courting habits include no mercy, Hueco Mundo and Seireitei are part of the same dimension, Ichigo is kind of like Ulquiorra, Kisuke is very confused, M/M, No beta I just die, Possessive Ichigo, UraIchi Week 2020, mark of possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24425518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaFreak15/pseuds/MangaFreak15
Summary: The Arrancar interrupts him this time, with a slight furrow to his brow that is so miniscule that Kisuke almost misses it, “Just call me Ichigo. I do not care for your paltry honorifics.”Kisuke opens his mouth, then closes it again. Right, let’s just throw a few centuries worth of manners out the window, because he’s dealing with a superpowered Hollow and logic is a myth.“…Ichigo it is, then,” he concedes.Or:After a routine mission goes horribly wrong, Kisuke finds himself at the mercy of a strange Arrancar.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Series: Arrancar Ichigo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770289
Comments: 39
Kudos: 773
Collections: Hollow or Instincts Driven Ichigo, UraIchi Week 2020





	No Place for a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my drive for over a month, and with UraIchi Week here I decided to just post it. Originally it was supposed to be a multi-chap fic, but Idk if I'm going to continue with it or not, so it's just a one-shot. It's almost 10k words. I cry.
> 
> The universe is a bit different here. Think Attack on Titan | Shingeki no Kyojin, but instead of the three walls, Rukongai is the Outer District and Seireitei is the Inner District. Hueco Mundo is what's outside the walls. And you have Hollows instead of Titans lol.
> 
> I guess this can technically count for Day 5: Courtship AU?

Kisuke awakens slowly, sore and aching and feeling as though someone had recently put him through a meat grinder. It’s the kind of pain that is familiar, an old friend that accompanies him after a hard-won battle.

For a moment he blinks up at the rough stone ceiling over his head, unable to grasp where he is and why he isn’t tinkering with his experiments back in his laboratory at home. He pushes himself up with a grunt of exertion that momentarily leaves him dizzy, pressing the knuckles of his right hand against his forehead. The thin blanket that had been covering him falls onto his lap. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to dry heave at the curl of nausea in his stomach.

Bits and pieces come back to him as his mind finally wakes back up. That’s right, he had been on a routine mission to the outskirts of North Rukongai, to check up on the barrier pillars placed on the boundary between the city and the barren Hueco Mundo Wastelands. Normally barrier maintenance is part of the Kidou Corps’ job, but scouts from the Eleventh Division’s northern outpost had reported that the reiatsu readings of a Vasto Lorde-class Hollow had registered on their sensors, so the Captain Commander had opted to send a Captain-class Shinigami to investigate and deal with the threat instead. Namely him, as the other Captains had been tied up in their own work at the time.

He had thought he’d been prepared to deal with a Vasto Lorde, but, to his frustration, he had miscalculated. He, Urahara Kisuke, lauded as the best and brightest mind of his generation, had miscalculated. In a world where the slightest mistake can kill you, well… to put it lightly, he _fucked up._

The barrier pillars themselves had been fine, only requiring a simple tune-up. It was when he and his squad reached the outpost that everything went to hell.

All of the Eleventh Division members at the outpost had been brutally slaughtered and had had reiatsu bombs implanted into their corpses. The ensuing explosions killed several of his squad members and injured almost half the rest. Kisuke had barely been able to throw up his Chikasumi no Tate in time to protect himself and the Shinigami who had been behind him. Then the Vasto Lorde and a horde of Adjuchas had descended upon them and the world had dissolved into crimson chaos accompanied by a chorus of screams.

Kisuke rubs tiredly at his face, feeling the beginnings of stubble growing on his chin and around his bottom jaw. He wonders if Hiyori had been able to make it back inside the barrier. He knows she hadn’t wanted to be sent away from the battle, but someone had to report the situation to the Captain Commander immediately and she had been the only one he could entrust the task to.

“If you don’t come back alive, I’ll kill you, baldy!” she had yelled at him before taking off towards Rukongai. Typical Hiyori.

He can’t lie to himself though; taking on a Vasto Lorde and several Adjuchas essentially by himself had been tantamount to suicide. He and his remaining squad members had ended up being chased into the Forest of Menos, where they had been picked off one by one until Kisuke had been the only one left. And even then, he hadn’t been able to hold out when a swarm of Gillians suddenly appeared from the forest depths and attacked him with Ceros fired in all directions.

The last thing he remembers is being smashed through a small hill and multiple crystal quartz trees, Benihime slipping from his bloody fingers, hearing the ringing in his head that spoke of a possible concussion, and watching the stubby fingers of a bear-like Adjuchas reach for him before he blacked out.

By all accounts, he should be dead right now. And yet, here he is, still alive.

Kisuke’s stomach finally settles, so he drops his hand and looks around, taking stock of his current surroundings. He appears to be inside a somewhat circular cave, dimly lit by the bluish glow of Spirit Lamps neatly positioned around the walls. He’s sitting on a bed of assorted furs, which he assumes must have come from Hollows. The furs aren’t soft, more so on the thick and coarse side, but it’s far preferable to laying on solid ground.

A few feet away, there is a shallow pool of water, which is surprisingly clear and unsullied by contaminants. The center of the cave is taken up by a large campfire pit with some iron cookware set up around it, along with a long crystal quartz log that serves as a bench. A little bit of light streams through a small triangular opening along the wall, which seems to be the only way to enter and exit the cave.

He absently notes that while his injuries have been treated and professionally bandaged, his clothes are unfortunately a different story. He knows he lost his Captain’s haori in the battle, but the rest of his shihakusho has been shredded down to his hakama, leaving him bare from the waist up.

Someone must have saved him and brought him to this cave. As for who, Kisuke hasn’t a clue. If he had been saved by other Shinigami, he would have woken up at the Fourth Division Relief Station, not wherever this is. His entire squad save for (probably) Hiyori is dead, and as far as he knew, there shouldn’t be anyone insane enough to live outside in the Wastelands. A Hollow would sooner eat him than treat him. So who…?

Right on cue, he picks up the sound of faint footsteps coming from the opening. His mysterious savior has returned. Great timing, his throat is feeling drier than sand and he isn’t sure he can crawl over to the pool of water with all his muscles feeling like they’ve turned into jelly.

Kisuke reaches out with his reiatsu to get a feel of the person’s signature, and frowns. This reiatsu presence feels…different. It feels like a Shinigami, but not. It also feels like a Hollow, but not quite that either. If anything, the reiatsu feels like a mix of the two, with more emphasis on the Hollow side, but that’s—that’s impossible, isn’t it?

Who is he kidding, impossibilities are things that just aren’t possible _yet._ Nothing says “I’m possible” like impossible does.

The first thing he sees when someone finally enters the cave is a broken white mask with a single horn curved outwards from the top, one thick crimson strip trailing down the side and vanishing over the edge that curves under its cheek. That’s a fucking Hollow mask. Oh _shit._

He tenses up and reflexively reaches for his zanpakutou, only to silently curse to himself when he realizes that it isn't there. He can’t use any higher-level Kidou spells in his current condition, which means that if the Hollow attacks, he has no means to defend himself. He’s like a sitting duck waiting for the slaughter. The only thing that keeps him from panicking further is remembering that the reiatsu presence he feels isn’t entirely like a Hollow’s. Also, strangely enough, he can’t sense any emotion from the humanoid Hollow. No bloodlust, no killing intent, nothing… which just makes him raise up his guard even more.

Warily, he watches as the Hollow fully steps into the cave. The Hollow is tall and slim, built lithe and lean with skin as pale as moonlight, long strands of vivid orange hair spilling over its shoulders and down its back. The Hollow is clad in a tattered black robe that gapes open at the front, exposing the twisted black lines across its chest, encircling the empty hole right in the center of its sternum. Two red tufts of fur enclose the Hollow’s thin wrists.

Kisuke’s eyes drop to the object clutched in the Hollow’s right hand and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees that it is a slim black blade with an enclosed guard. Is that…a zanpakutou? But how can that be—

He must make some sort of noise, because the Hollow’s face abruptly swings in his direction, a pair of heterochromatic eyes—one dull brown, the other a glowing golden iris set against pitch-black sclera—barely visible in the dim light of the Spirit Lamps. They stare at each other for a single, long moment.

Kisuke startles when a low, guttural voice comes from the mysterious Hollow, “You’re awake.”

A man’s voice.

The blond captain opens his mouth to speak, but the harsh, sandpapery feeling of his parched throat leads him to double over instead, coughing roughly into the crook of his arm.

A moleskin appears in his peripheral vision and he gladly takes it, bringing it to his mouth and gulping down mouthfuls of cold, refreshing water. The assassin part of him is screaming that he shouldn’t be so trusting of substances given to him by a stranger, _especially a Hollow_ , but given that this man saved his life, it is highly improbable that he would turn around and poison him to death.

When the moleskin is empty, he gives it back. “Thank you,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks up.

It is a little unnerving to see a Hollow mask so close to him, but he tries not to show it. Now that the man is closer to him, Kisuke is able to study the Hollow’s (surprisingly human-like) features. The gold-on-black eye color doesn’t recede, but both eyes are equally blank; emotionless. Two thin red triangles trail down from the corners of his eyes, mimicking the pattern on his mask. Long orange bangs frame his face and brush the tops of his eyelashes, the rest falling away behind his back. He is unfailingly beautiful, in the way a full moon is against a clear night sky. Ethereal. Untouchable.

The broken mask is attached to the left side of the Hollow’s face, somewhat overshadowing his demonic eye. Sensing Kisuke’s unease, he leans back to give the Shinigami some space. “How do you feel?” he asks quietly.

“Sore,” Kisuke replies truthfully, because he certainly is. This Hollow is rather strange, enquiring after his health rather than attacking him on sight as Hollows normally do. And because Kisuke is a scientist foremost, the whole “kill first, ask questions never” credo stopped applying to him once he left the Onmitsukidou. So he adds, with a degree of caution, “It seems I have you to thank for keeping me alive, mister…?”

“Ichigo.”

Kisuke smiles politely. “Ichigo-san. No last name?”

“Just Ichigo.” The gruff, laconic answers contrast with the man’s appearance and Kisuke finds it strangely adorable. Then he realizes what he just thought and wants to slap himself because this is a Hollow, for Soul King’s sake. “Yours?”

If he wasn’t injured, Kisuke might have sketched a bow. Instead, he inclines his head as he speaks, “Captain of the Twelfth Division of Seireitei, Urahara Kisuke, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ichigo-san.”

“Likewise.” The orange-haired man goes to refill his moleskin from the pool of water. He turns his head to look at Kisuke as he does so, fixing a blank stare on his injured guest. “You are a long way from home, Shinigami Captain.”

“Ara, not going to use my name? I don’t give it out lightly, you know,” Kisuke says with a teasing lilt. Well, at least that’s what he _used_ to not do back when he was in the Onmitsukidou. A known assassin is a dead assassin, after all.

Ichigo doesn’t so much as twitch at Kisuke’s little taunt. “Kisuke, then,” he corrects himself.

The blond Shinigami feels a thrum of _something_ race down his spine at being addressed by his given name so freely. “My, aren’t you a bold one, Ichigo-san,” he murmurs, wishing he had a fan or something that he could use to hide the warm flush of pink in his cheeks.

“You do not wish to be called by that name?”

Kisuke waves a hand. “Oh no, no, ‘Kisuke’ is fine. I simply wasn’t expecting it,” he assures. He pauses for a moment. “Ah, and not to sound ungrateful, but why _did_ you save me? I’ve never heard of a Hollow doing such a thing before.”

Ichigo finishes refilling the moleskin and stands back up. He gives a near-imperceptible shrug, “I felt like it.” Before Kisuke can puzzle over such a vague answer, the Hollow returns to his side and leans over him, long orange hair spilling over his shoulder. “And because your soul… smells especially delicious to me.”

Kisuke’s jaw drops in shock. Ichigo doesn’t say anything else, just moves away to sit on the crystal quartz bench and pick up his blade, appearing to examine it for any chips or cracks. Like he hadn’t essentially just admitted to wanting to eat Kisuke. He probably shouldn’t feel so surprised though; lesser Hollows often talked about how souls with a higher concentration of reiryoku, especially Shinigami, were more appealing to them than souls with little to none.

That doesn’t make him feel any safer being in the same vicinity as Ichigo, despite the fact that Ichigo had saved him from death instead of devouring his soul. He certainly had enough time to do so, yet Kisuke is still here. That’s got to mean something, right?

He lays back down on the furs, feeling a faint tug of drowsiness start to pull at his senses. A gurgle from his stomach reminds him that he hasn’t eaten anything for however long he’s been out, but his energy is already draining away from him and he no longer feels like moving. The assassin side of him heavily disapproves of letting his guard down in front of a potential enemy. The rational side of him argues that if the Hollow wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have saved him in the first place, much less nurse him back to health.

He compromises by keeping his back to the wall as he pulls the thin blanket over him and closes his eyes.

“Sleep,” he hears Ichigo say, faintly.

Kisuke does.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, Ichigo is still there. He is tending to a pot that is simmering over the campfire in the middle of the cave. Huh, apparently Hollows can cook, who knew. Whatever it is, it smells absolutely delicious. As Kisuke sits up, his stomach gives a loud grumble in response.

Ichigo turns to him, a hint of amusement reflected on his otherwise blank face. “Hungry?” he asks.

Kisuke rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Ahaha, you heard that?”

The Hollow inclines his head. “It will be done soon,” he intones. He picks up a large spoon and stirs the pot twice.

Kisuke has _so_ many questions he wants to ask, but he’s still not quite sure what his… host’s intentions are towards him. As far as he knows, no other Hollow in history has ever saved a Shinigami’s life. This simultaneously excites and scares him, because he doesn’t know what to expect, but he’s also way too curious for his own good. The scientist part of him wants _answers._ His fingers itch for his notes, which are unfortunately back at his laboratory in Seireitei.

He decides to begin with a basic question so that he can start understanding what kind of situation he’s in, “Pardon me for asking, Ichigo-san, but how long have I been here?”

Ichigo’s response comes immediately, “Four weeks.”

Four weeks huh… four weeks is nothing to a Shinigami who’s lived for a few centuries already, but when it comes to missions, four weeks with no communication from the squad leader usually prompts the Head Commander to send out search parties to investigate. Hiyori will tell them what she knows up to the point where she retreated back inside the barrier, but the rest will be all guesswork and stress. If this cave is still within the Forest of Menos, they’ll never be able to find him short of tearing the forest apart, and he knows that Seireitei can’t afford to risk that much manpower to find the whereabouts of a single Captain-class Shinigami and his squad.

If—no, _when_ he returns to Seireitei (he pointedly does not think about Ichigo possibly keeping him prisoner here), both Yoruichi and Hiyori will most definitely kick his ass into the next century and refuse to admit that they were worried about him. Well, at least Hiyori will. Yoruichi will probably punch first and ask questions later.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when a warm bowl is thrust into his hands. “Eat,” Ichigo commands.

Kisuke isn’t sure what’s in the bowl, but it seems to be some sort of vegetable soup. He’s not going to ask where the vegetables came from (it was called the Hueco Mundo Wastelands for a reason). He tilts the bowl back and takes a tentative sip.

The next moment he blinks and the soup is _gone._ He doesn’t remember eating it, but the faint burning sensation of drinking something too hot lingers on his tongue and the back of his throat. Kisuke doesn’t know if he finished the bowl so fast out of hunger or if it was because it had tasted so damn good that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from devouring it.

He holds the bowl out, wordlessly asking for another serving.

Ichigo refills the bowl, but as he passes it back, he reproaches Kisuke slightly, “Eat slower. You will hurt your stomach eating too fast.”

The scariest part about that is that Ichigo spoke in a completely monotonous tone, not a trace of anger or exasperation in his voice. Kisuke can’t even do that, and he used to be an Onmitsukidou unit commander.

He hides his unease behind a veneer of lighthearted-ness and counters with, “My, my, you seem to know a lot about patient care, Ichigo-san.” He does eat the second bowl more slowly though, taking the time to actually savor the flavor. It’s not salty, but there is a rich, earthy flavor to it that he can’t quite pinpoint. The vegetable chunks in the soup are a nice touch too, soft enough to chew, but retaining a slight crunch so that they don’t immediately turn to mush in his mouth. He can feel the warmth of the soup settling nicely in his belly, heating him up inside.

The Hollow shrugs, which is little more than a tilt of his shoulders. “Been around for a long time.”

That statement is vague enough that it both does and doesn’t explain things. ‘A long time’ could be anywhere from decades to centuries to millennia. It’s not like they have an expiration date on their lifespan.

Kisuke doesn’t ask though. “Is that so…” he hums. He chooses to finish his soup in silence, using the brief lull to reorganize the thoughts in his head so he can focus on the most important issues that need to be addressed first.

Ichigo doesn’t speak either. He extinguishes the campfire and puts a lid on the pot, saving the remainder of the soup for later. Kisuke notices that Ichigo hadn’t eaten any of the soup himself. Does that mean the Hollow had made it just for him? Come to think of it, higher-level Hollows didn’t necessarily require sustenance to survive. Years of research had proven that lower-level Hollows Adjuchas-class and below had to either devour souls or each other to survive, but Vasto Lorde-class Hollows were more liable to kill for fun than nourishment. Even then, the research was inconclusive due to the rarity of Vasto Lordes. But then how did Ichigo know how to cook? So many questions and so few answers.

Speaking of Vasto Lordes…

The Twelfth Division captain observes Ichigo over his empty bowl, his eyes lingering on the broken mask on the side of his head. In all his years of being a Shinigami, he had never seen a Hollow with a broken mask. Even the Vasto Lorde that had attacked him had still had its mask fully attached. What does that make Ichigo, then?

Only one way to find out.

“Say, Ichigo-san,” he begins, “are there other Hollows out there with broken masks like yours?”

Ichigo blinks at him slowly. “Yes,” he admits. “We are known as ‘Arrancars’.”

Arrancar: meaning _‘to tear off.’_ A very fitting term for a Hollow with a broken mask. What is the purpose behind such an action though?

“Fascinating. Forgive me for my curiosity, I do like to learn new things.” Kisuke hands the empty bowl back to the orange-haired man. Now that he has a new source of information who isn’t going to kill him on sight, Kisuke won’t waste this opportunity to acquire as much data as he can (within reason, of course; no need to tempt his host into eviscerating him).

“You are the first to think so,” Ichigo discloses, taking the bowl.

Not surprising since Shinigami and Hollows are natural enemies. Kill first and ask questions never.

“Tearing off your own mask seems rather dramatic though. Is there a meaning behind it?” Kisuke asks, leaning forward eagerly.

Ichigo humors him, “To gain great power and find meaning in our existence.” He cleans the bowl and sets it aside to dry. “That is all.”

That’s a loaded statement if he’s ever heard one. Kisuke knows he’ll be looking at this issue forwards, backwards, sideways, and upside-down for years. What is power? What is meaning? What is existence? What is anything, really?

“I see, that is quite different from the thought process of the average Hollow.” Or lack-thereof, anyways. The small-fries are just mindless beasts whose only purpose is to devour.

Kisuke decides to switch to a different topic before he can lose himself in his own head and run himself through circles and circles of reasoning. “Ichigo-san—”

The Arrancar interrupts him this time, with a slight furrow to his brow that is so miniscule that Kisuke almost misses it, “Just call me Ichigo. I do not care for your paltry honorifics.”

Kisuke opens his mouth, then closes it again. Right, let’s just throw a few centuries worth of manners out the window, because he’s dealing with a superpowered Hollow and logic is a myth.

“…Ichigo it is, then,” he concedes. “I wanted to ask if I happened to be holding a sword when you found me.”

Kisuke remembers his last Chikasumi no Tate shattering like glass before him, the incandescent howl of helpless rage of a zanpakutou realizing she can’t protect her wielder reverberating through his head, feeling Benihime slip away from his blood-sticky fingers, but he holds out the hope that his zanpakutou hasn’t been lost somewhere in the depths of the forest. There’s only so much he could do with Kidou spells, no matter that inventing new ones is one of his hobbies. And while all Onmitsukidou soldiers are proficient in bare-handed combat, that unfortunately doesn’t work on Hollows.

Nothing shows in Ichigo’s face, but he nods. He meanders over to a hidden niche that Kisuke hadn’t noticed earlier because of the dim lighting and, to his utmost relief, pulls out his katana.

Then Ichigo casually tosses it in his direction. Kisuke squawks and nearly dives off the bed of furs to catch his zanpakutou. “That was uncalled for,” he huffs, carefully examining his sword to make sure it wasn’t damaged in any way.

“Good reflexes,” the Arrancar says, with a faint note of satisfied approval in his voice.

Kisuke looks at him suspiciously. That was a test? The Hollow had just armed him as easy as breathing. That speaks of how much confidence Ichigo has in himself and his abilities. In his current condition, Kisuke’s not interested in trying to test how fast Ichigo can kill him.

The orange-haired Hollow says nothing more and goes to sit by the entrance of the cave. For all intents and purposes, he appears to doze off, both eyes closed and body language loose and languid. Even his sword is sheathed and tucked into the red sash around his waist.

Kisuke doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t know Ichigo is watching him. He sets Benihime aside, satisfied that he had not found anything amiss, and carefully stretches out his muscles to try and get a feel for how out of shape he must be after nearly a month of inactivity. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that he doesn’t ache as much as when he’d woken up the first time around. He’s not sure where Ichigo found a spare set of clothes for him, but it beats staying in his torn and dirty uniform.

Getting up and walking around is a different story. He wobbles onto his feet and nearly falls flat on his face when he tries to take a step forward. Yoruichi would have busted out laughing if she had seen that incredibly ungraceful move from a former Onmitsukidou soldier.

As it is, he thinks there’s an almost palpable air of amusement radiating from Ichigo, even though he doesn’t show it. That’s enough to make him flush in embarrassment and hastily clamber back to his feet. He doesn’t fall over this time.

The cave had seemed rather large when he was resting, but as Kisuke makes a lap around, mentally measuring its size, he realizes that it’s actually on the smaller side. Not meant to hold more than one person for long periods of time, and that person is Ichigo. Which means Kisuke essentially stole Ichigo’s bed for four weeks. The Arrancar doesn’t seem miffed about it in any capacity, but given that he speaks in the exact same tone for any given subject, Kisuke doesn’t consider it out of the realm of possibility.

He pauses thoughtfully. Can Ichigo even _get_ angry? He’s a Hollow, his natural instinct should be telling him to slay Kisuke on the spot, but all he’s done is treat his injuries, feed him, answer his questions, and even return his zanpakutou. The closest he’s gotten to annoyed is when he told Kisuke to drop the honorific, and that was only indicated by a tiny furrow in his brow that a normal person wouldn’t even notice. He doesn’t know if the Arrancar is just humoring him or not, but his actions thus far indicate that Ichigo has a surprising amount of patience and thankfully doesn’t have a hair-trigger temper. Well, he had said he’d been around for a long time. If Kisuke had to guess, Ichigo is probably at least several centuries old, if not older.

Several laps around the cave tire Kisuke out more than he expects. He drops back down the furs, breathing heavily. He’s definitely not fully healed if that’s how pitiful his performance is right now.

“Rest,” Ichigo suddenly speaks up from where he’s sitting. Kisuke looks over at him and finds that his eyes are partially open, observing him. “In one week’s time, I will return you to the Shinigami settlement.”

Kisuke blinks, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Clearly Ichigo has no intention of keeping Kisuke here indefinitely, nor has he made another mention of how delicious Kisuke’s soul is to him. “That’s an awfully nice gesture. What’s in it for you?”

“Shinigami do not belong here,” Ichigo says, closing his eyes again. Kisuke waits a beat to see if he’ll bother to elaborate on that, but the Arrancar remains silent.

Well then. If Ichigo isn’t inclined towards conversation at the moment, Kisuke has something else to do that doesn’t require physically tiring himself out. He crosses his legs on the fur bed, settles his zanpakutou across his lap, and takes a deep breath. He and Benihime have some catching-up to do.

* * *

Sometimes Ichigo leaves the cave, presumably to find something edible for Kisuke to eat. He tells Kisuke to stay inside while he’s gone, because it’s not safe for him to be out and about in the Forest of Menos without him, especially when he hasn’t fully recovered yet.

Kisuke would argue that he can take care of himself, but the memory of being helpless before the never-ending swarm of Hollows stays with him. More than once, he’s woken from a nightmare of his latest near-death experience, grasping blindly for Benihime. Each time, he feels almost ashamed of himself, because he used to be in the Onmitsukidou, a brush with death is nothing new to him.

Then Ichigo will silently come and sit next to him until he stops shaking, a solid presence in the darkness. A Shinigami taking comfort from a Hollow, that’s a first. Ichigo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer a shoulder or a hug or anything of the sort (he’s a Hollow, why would he), but the calm, steady pulse of his reiatsu presence is enough of an anchor for Kisuke to latch onto and use to ground himself back in reality.

It’s hard to tell time in this cave. The amount of light that filters through the opening in the wall never changes, so Kisuke can’t even tell day from night. He’ll just have to trust Ichigo to keep his word about escorting him back to Rukongai.

It’s one of these days that Kisuke finally gathers up the courage to ask, in his own roundabout way, about the sword that Ichigo carries around with him, “You know, you’re the first Hollow I’ve seen who uses a weapon that isn’t an extension of their own body.” _What does it do?_

The orange-haired Arrancar stares at him blankly for a moment. He lightly fingers the black hilt, the red tassel at the end swinging softly side to side. “…This sword is a seal. We Arrancars gain a mass increase in power when we break our masks. The seal limits our power in this form, or else our mere presence will crush everything around us,” he explains.

Kisuke taps his chin, thinking. “It’s similar to our zanpakutou, then. We keep our zanpakutou sealed when it isn’t in use and unseal their true forms during battle,” he concludes. He eyes Ichigo speculatively. “What happens if you release the seal?”

Ichigo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to; Kisuke can already guess.

“Does it have a name?” he asks instead.

The corners of Ichigo’s lips twitch upwards into something that’s not quite a smile.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, reverently, as if the whole world can hear him speak, and slowly draws the sword from its sheath. “Its name is… _Luna Asesina.”_

Luna Asesina. _Killer Moon._

Kisuke looks at him—at his cracked mask with its single crimson stripe, his stark-white skin pale as moon’s light, the way the glow of the Spirit Lamps glints off of a deadly blade black as the night—and thinks it’s little wonder that he believes that Ichigo can cleave the moon itself.

* * *

True to his word, once the week is up and Kisuke is deemed fit for travel, Ichigo finally lets him out of the cave. Oh, Kisuke’s tried to leave before when Ichigo had been away, only to realize that there was a seal blocking off the entrance to the cave. It seemed to function similarly to _Kyoumon,_ only Kisuke couldn’t break it from the inside, even after analyzing its reishi structure and attempting to cancel it out with Benihime. So he’d had to sit back and wait till the week was over.

The Forest of Menos is as dark as he remembers, only a few sunbeams making it past the tangled expanse of crystal quartz trees that line the forest floor. From the narrow ledge in front of the cave, Kisuke instantly spots a group of Gillians wandering aimlessly in the distance. Now that he’s well-rested and ready for battle, he isn’t worried about them. Especially with Ichigo accompanying him.

“Keep up,” the orange-haired Arrancar says, leaping away into the trees.

This is the first time Kisuke has been this deep inside the Forest of Menos, so he automatically maps the area around them as they go. It looks mostly the same, a few dips here, a few inclines there. He keeps his eyes on Ichigo’s bright orange hair ahead of him so he doesn’t get lost.

Half an hour later, Ichigo abruptly comes to halt atop an enormous boulder. Kisuke seamlessly transitions out of a shunpo and stops beside him, keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. He reaches out to feel for any reiatsu signatures headed in their direction, and hones in on the one that’s coming towards them. It’s carefully controlled and feels like… a Shinigami. Not any Shinigami he knows, but nonetheless serves to put his guard up, because there should _not_ be another Shinigami this far into the forest.

A man clad in a ragged black shihakusho and a dirty fur cloak with five Hollow masks haphazardly stitched together flies out of the trees, zanpakutou drawn and aimed at Ichigo’s head. “Die, Arrancar!” he roars, slashing downwards a split second before he realizes that Kisuke is there.

His eyes widen and he attempts to pull his attack back a little too late. Kisuke has Benihime up and ready to parry, but Ichigo spins on his heel and deflects the zanpakutou away from them with little more than a flick of his finger. The next sweep of his hand blows the unknown Shinigami away, sending him crashing through several trees and out of sight.

Kisuke is suddenly very glad that he’s not on the Arrancar’s bad side.

“You’re very strong,” he casually remarks, lowering Benihime so the tip is pointed at the ground. Ichigo hadn’t even drawn his sword. He hadn’t been kidding about the power boost that came with tearing off his mask. “Who was that, by the way?”

For the first time, Kisuke hears a tinge of irritation in the Arrancar’s voice as he coldly replies, “A nuisance.”

If that’s what Ichigo does to ‘nuisances,’ Kisuke can only imagine what he does to those he considers his enemies.

The unknown Shinigami must have some sort of death wish, because he reappears in front of them with a burst of shunpo, a trail of blood running down from a gash on his forehead. He frowns down at Kisuke from his position in the air.

“You’re—aren’t you a Shinigami? Why aren’t you attacking that bastard?!” he yells, pointing the tip of his zanpakutou at Ichigo.

The Twelfth Division captain mulls over an answer. He has a feeling that the other Shinigami won’t like it no matter what he says. So he settles for what he does best and puts on his best I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about smile. “Now, now, why don’t you calm down and we can talk things out instead of fighting?” he cajoles.

As expected, the stranger takes offense to that. “Traitor!” the man hisses, drawing up his zanpakutou. “You’re on that monster’s side, huh? As a loyal Shinigami of Seireitei, I will put you down myself!”

Kisuke sighs. Well, at least he tried. He really doesn’t want to fight with another Shinigami over something that could be clearly communicated if only he _listened,_ but he’s long since learned that the “kill first, ask questions never” philosophy is entrenched too deep in Shinigami culture to change. He readies Benihime in front of him. A few weeks of bedrest isn’t enough to kill centuries of battle-hardened instincts.

“Remember my name, for I am the one who will kill you. I am Ashido Kanou!” the man declares.

“Nice to meet you, Ashido-san,” Kisuke says, smiling guilelessly. “Urahara Kisuke, at your service.”

“I’ll be sure to let Yamamoto-soutaichou know what an act of folly you’ve committed,” Ashido spits, narrowing his eyes at Kisuke.

A menacing growl erupts from the Arrancar in their midst, making them both freeze before they can lunge at each other. Ichigo grabs Kisuke’s arm and ushers the blond behind him, almost making him stumble.

“Ichigo, wha—” he starts to say, but stops at the sight of black and gold bleeding into the Hollow’s other eye, his pupils turning to slits, the red triangles on his cheeks becoming thicker with rage.

“You dare threaten what’s under my protection, Shinigami?” Ichigo snarls viciously. “So be it. Begone!”

He fires a barrage of Bala at Ashido so fast that the other Shinigami doesn’t have time to dodge or defend himself. He screams in anger and pain as the condensed energy swallows him up. The ensuing explosion throws up a thick cloud of dust that makes Kisuke cough into his sleeve. The amount of power that Ichigo has in his _sealed form_ is insane. He doubts that Ashido survived.

When the smoke clears, Kisuke carefully peeks over Ichigo’s shoulder. His eyes widen at the crater that’s been blown into the ground, crystal quartz trees crumbling away into dust along with any Hollows unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast. He mentally revises his estimate of the power gap between Arrancars and Vasto Lordes, because _holy shit,_ how hasn’t Seireitei been burned to the ground yet if there are Hollows this powerful roaming the Hueco Mundo Wastelands?

His eyes land on a lump at the very bottom of the crater, and he cringes at the sight. Ashido is definitely dead. Even a Shinigami can’t survive having their head blown off and half their body disintegrated. It’s a cold reminder that Ichigo isn’t just a Hollow who decided to save Kisuke’s life on a whim, he’s an Arrancar, a deadly, _lethal_ predator at the top of the food chain.

Ichigo turns away, exuding savage satisfaction at having gotten rid of the perceived threat. His right eye and the red lines on his face return to normal. “Come, Kisuke,” he orders, taking off.

Kisuke spares a moment to send up a prayer for Ashido before he follows the Arrancar away from the site.

They meet a few Adjuchas close to the outer edges of the forest, who try to kill Kisuke heedless of the fact that Ichigo is right there. The orange-haired Arrancar tears them apart without mercy.

“I _can_ take care of myself, Ichigo,” Kisuke says mildly, watching Ichigo’s latest victim turn to dust. Benihime is outright radiating displeasure that her prey is being taken away from her before she can kill them.

Ichigo blinks at him. “You are under my protection. I will allow nothing to hurt you.”

“And I appreciate it,” Kisuke counters, smiling without teeth, “but I _am_ the Captain of the Twelfth Division for a reason. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

The Arrancar doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. He somehow manages to pull off looking puzzled despite the fact that not a single muscle in his face twitches. Kisuke would really like to know how he does it.

“…Fine,” Ichigo concedes grudgingly. “I will not interfere with your battles.”

“Excellent!” Kisuke beams. “Let’s move on then, shall we?”

* * *

It is a relief to finally step back out onto the rolling white dunes of the Hueco Mundo Wastelands. The Eleventh Division outpost where his team had been ambushed is roughly three kilometers due southeast of the Forest of Menos and approximately five hundred meters north of Rukongai, which means that he’s almost home and can meet up with any teams that might have been sent out to find him.

The soft purple hues of twilight cross the sky, indicating that night is about to fall. Even from here, Kisuke’s eyes can pick out the twin barrier pillars lit up like homing beacons in the distance, and beyond them, the bright lights of Rukongai twinkle merrily.

He sees a flash of black out of the corner of his eye and instantly swings Benihime up to counter a horizontal slash aimed to slice him in half. He redirects the attack into the sand next to him before disappearing with a burst of shunpo, instantly reappearing behind the enemy and firing off a Kamisori.

The Hollow flies away from the attack, but Kisuke directs the energy wave to swoop upwards and slice cleanly through one of the Hollow’s bladed arms. It screeches in anger, falling back.

It circles in the air once, then dives at Kisuke with its remaining arm swinging wildly. Its whipcord-thin tail strikes out, digging into the sand and throwing up a spray of dust in an attempt to blind the Shinigami. Kisuke jumps back to avoid it. He darts around the Hollow, letting its bladed arm pass him by, and severes the Hollow in half. Its dying scream vanishes into the wind along with its ashes.

Ichigo rumbles his approval from the sidelines, where he had been watching. Kisuke smiles, hefting Benihime over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he urges, striding away into the sandy wasteland. Ichigo’s steps are silent behind him, but he can feel the Arrancar’s reiatsu following him closely.

They are halfway back to the outpost when they pick up the sounds of a fierce battle up ahead. A heavy presence blankets the area, one that Kisuke is all too familiar with. The Vasto Lorde that had attacked his squad is still alive, and it’s fighting with several Shinigami, clearly hellbent on ripping them all to shreds.

Kisuke quickens his steps, apprehension rising within him.

The Vasto Lorde is a black scorpion-like Hollow with a thick tail arched menacingly over its back, topped off with a deadly stinger as long as a man is tall. It has six long legs ending in red claws, bright crimson lines twisting up the sides and criss-crossing over its back. Two shiny black pincers, both tipped in red, slash through the air with the intent to rip and kill. Its mask features two elongated fangs on each side of its mouth, twin yellow eyes glittering with madness from behind it. A terrible sight to behold, indeed.

Kisuke spots the captain of the Fifth Division almost immediately, his long blond hair whirling savagely around his head as he attacks, white captain’s haori fluttering in the wind. On the ground, a few of his subordinates are striking at the Hollow’s legs, trying to immobilize it. Shinji’s lieutenant is flashing about here and there, gracefully dancing away from its tail as it attempts to stab the man to death. And there, on the side, he sees Hiyori deflecting attacks from its pincers with her unleashed zanpakutou.

She’s safe. Thank god.

He turns to Ichigo, who is watching the battle with an unreadable expression on his face. “Thank you for bringing me back, Ichigo,” he says. “But you probably shouldn’t let them see you—”

He trails off as Ichigo’s right eye turns black and gold again, a low growl vibrating out of his throat. “Ichigo?”

Without answering, the Arrancar takes off towards the battle with a burst of speed so fast that even _Kisuke_ can’t see it, and he grew up with the Goddess of Flash. The next second, Ichigo reappears above the Vasto Lorde, sword drawn, and slices off the tip of its tail. The startled shouts of the Shinigami are drowned out by the Vasto Lorde’s enraged shriek as it thrashes around. The stinger drops to the ground, where its corrosive acid eats away a good chunk of the sand around it.

As Kisuke shunpos forward, he catches Shinji swearing, _“Another_ one? Ya’ve got ta be fucking kidding me!”

Kisuke skids to stop beside the other captain, flinging up a shield in front of them to block a crushing blow from one of the Hollow’s pincers. “Why, if it isn’t Hirako-san!” he declares brightly. Shinji blinks at him dumbly, unable to hide the naked shock that blooms across his face when he registers who’s standing before him.

“Urahara—? You’re _alive?!”_

“Talk later!” Kisuke lowers the shield and swings his zanpakutou in the same breath. “Nake, Benihime!”

His sword sings with satisfaction and victory as it cleaves straight through the Vasto Lorde’s thick shell, snapping the pincer clean off the limb. The Hollow rears back, screaming, “Damn you, maggots! Stay still so I can kill you!”

One sweep of its tail knocks several Shinigami off their feet, including Hirako’s lieutenant. They are flung a little ways away, impacting into the ground with a loud crash that throws up a huge spray of sand. Hiyori narrowly avoids being trampled by its feet as it skitters backwards rapidly, putting distance between itself and the Shinigami.

“Don’t just stand there, stupid Shinji!” she snarls, readying Kubikiri Orochi for another blow. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a—”

She almost drops her zanpakutou when she sees Kisuke standing there. He raises a hand cheerily. “Hello~ Did you miss me, Hiyori-san?”

A vein pulses visibly on her head. “Who the hell would miss you, baldy?!” she yells, momentarily forgetting about the Vasto Lorde and launching swift retribution via sandal-to-the-face at her wayward captain. Kisuke tumbles backwards ass over teakettle, sliding to a stop in the sand with a hand over his bloody nose.

“Nice to see you, too,” he groans thickly, his voice muffled behind his hand.

“That’s what you get!” Hiyori huffs, turning back to face the enemy.

As Kisuke staggers to his feet and makes his way back over to them, Shinji casually asks, “By the way… who is that?” His shrewd eyes are trained thoughtfully on the lithe form of the unknown Hollow somersaulting through the air with the kind of grace that Kisuke wishes he could mimic. “He ain’t attacked any of us even though he’s a Hollow. Looks more like us than the other one, too.”

Kisuke is well aware that the Fifth Division captain has been around for a long time and possesses a keen and cunning mind behind his typical laid-back exterior to rival his own. He has to tread carefully here; one wrong move, one wrong word, and he could be executed or thrown into Muken for consorting with the enemy.

Luckily Hiyori butts in while he’s contemplating an appropriate response.

“Who cares if he’s helping us,” the petite lieutenant growls. “We’ll kill the Vasto Lorde first and deal with him after!”

“Wow, ya actually said somethin’ smart for once,” Shinji drawls, rolling his eyes.

Hiyori puffs up with righteous indignation. “What was that, stupid Shinji?!”

As Shinji and Hiyori begin to squabble loudly in the background, Kisuke watches Ichigo land on the Vasto Lorde’s head, sword raised. With a victorious roar, he drives the blade through the Hollow’s thick carapace and into its skull, ripping through its mask like wet tissue paper.

“Ichigo-sama, why…” it gurgles feebly as it collapses on the sand, legs twitching in its death throes. Then it turns to dust, scattering across the sandy dunes.

“Oh, he killed it,” Shinji comments in surprise, looking up from where he has Hiyori pinned to the ground and hissing like a particularly affronted house cat. He slants a gaze upwards at the other blond captain. “Ya gonna answer my question now?”

Kisuke carefully wipes the blood from his nose. “Who knows,” he answers distantly, shrugging. “I couldn’t tell you much about him either, except that if he hadn’t helped me out, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Shinji raises his eyebrows so high that they vanish behind his bangs. “Are ya telling me that a _Hollow_ saved yer life?” he exclaims incredulously.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Kisuke smiles.

“Impossible, more like!” Shinji retorts, accidentally easing up on the grip he had on Kisuke’s lieutenant. Hiyori instantly takes advantage of the opening and punches Shinji in the face.

“I said get off of me, asshole Shinji!” she hollers, throwing her sandal at him as he reels back, clutching his nose.

“Gah! Why are ya always so violent, woman?!”

“Excuse me?!”

Kisuke sighs as the two Shinigami begin to argue back and forth again. He looks at where Ichigo is placidly standing, surrounded by the remnants of Shinji’s squad. Sousuke has his zanpakutou pointed at Ichigo’s throat, but he isn’t trying to attack, rather talk to the silent Arrancar. Ichigo is pointedly ignoring him. Although the lieutenant is keeping his polite face on, Kisuke can tell he’s growing frustrated by the lack of response

Ichigo’s blank gaze slides off the lieutenant and locks onto Kisuke. He immediately bats Sousuke’s sword aside and moves in Kisuke’s direction, vanishing from sight. Only years of being subjected to Yoruichi’s shunpo keeps him from jumping in surprise when Ichigo reappears next to him. The orange-haired Hollow leans in to inspect him.

The Arrancar’s gaze narrows when he sees Kisuke’s bruised nose. “You are injured,” he states, grasping Kisuke’s chin and tilting his face to the left and to the right to inspect the injury. He seems displeased about it.

Kisuke keeps himself very still lest one of Ichigo’s (incredibly sharp) claws slips and cuts his face. “Ah, about that… that’s normal. Nothing to worry about,” he says reassuringly. He’s seen Ichigo murder Ashido simply for saying he was going to kill him; he will not have the same thing befall Hiyori for kicking him.

A gleaming sword hovers ominously close to Ichigo’s neck. Emotionless golden eyes flicker to the side, where Shinji is standing and frowning. “Hands off of Urahara-taichou, Hollow,” he threatens softly. “I don’t know what yer game is, but we ain’t playing it.”

Ichigo holds his gaze for a solid minute. “I am not playing a game,” he refutes. “This one is under my protection. He is mine.”

Shinji bristles. “We ain’t anyone’s _possessions—”_

His words fall on deaf ears as Ichigo turns back to Kisuke, still holding his face in one hand. The other hand shoots up and grabs Shinji’s zanpakutou, casually throwing it on the ground along with its wielder. For good measure, the Arrancar rests one foot atop the Fifth Division captain’s back, preventing him from getting back up to attack. The scientist can feel the buzz of nervousness beneath his skin as Ichigo carefully tilts his head to the right, exposing his neck. The assassin in him is screaming to pull away from the Arrancar right now, quickly, before Ichigo does something to him, but to his consternation he finds that he can’t move.

The next moment happens too fast for anyone to process.

Ichigo opens his mouth and clamps his fangs down on the junction of Kisuke’s shoulder, breaking through the skin.

Kisuke lets out a breathless gasp and tries to pull away. Then the pain hits. It feels like there’s a fire burning through all of his nerves, feels like his bones are being disintegrated and his skin is being stripped from his flesh and it _hurts,_ oh god, it hurts so much, make it stop, please, it hurts, there’s a thousand insects eating him from the inside out, it hurts so bad, it feels like all his organs are being ruptured at the same time, and it _HURTS—_

He hears someone screaming in the distance (oh wait, it’s him, he’s the one screaming) and someone else yelling and, faintly, the sound of swords clashing before he rolls over on the sand (when did he fall on the ground?) and vomits blood and bile all over the dusty dunes. It feels like he’s choking on nothing but blood, feels his lungs constrict in his chest, feels like there’s tiny glass shards digging into his throat, and gods, he _can’t breathe,_ someone help him, _please—_

Finally the pain stops and he mercifully fades away into the darkness.

* * *

“…no signs… down… recovering…”

“…good… me know… up…”

“…night… tell the… mark…”

“…strange…”

“…let him… sure…”

“…won’t be happy…”

Kisuke can barely catch snippets of conversations going over his head as he fights his way back to consciousness. When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the dark ceiling of what he recognizes as one of the recovery rooms in the Fourth Division Relief Station. His memories are hazy; he can’t quite recall what happened to him, only a distant echo of pain.

He pushes himself up, noting with some surprise that his body doesn’t hurt at all. Someone had cleaned him up and dressed him in a clean robe. Kisuke absently scrubs a hand through his messy hair, brow furrowed as he tries to remember what he had been doing to land himself here.

He’d…been on a mission, right? And then…he’d been in a cave? Or a forest?

The door slides open with a soft rasp, breaking him from his thoughts. He turns his head and sees Unohana enter the room. She immediately notices that he’s awake and sitting up. After closing the door behind her, she makes her way over to his bed.

“Good, you’re awake, Urahara-taichou. How do you feel?” she asks kindly, stopping beside him.

“Not bad,” Kisuke replies. He drops his hand back into his lap. “What…what happened to me?”

Unohana folds her hands together in front of her. “Hirako-taichou brought you here after you were attacked by a powerful Hollow. What is the last thing you can remember?” she questions.

“Not much. I believe I was on a mission that went south due to unexpected complications. And I was… rescued, I think. By… a man? With orange hair,” Kisuke explains haltingly. Except that doesn’t quite feel right.

_—clad in a tattered black robe that gapes open at the front, exposing the twisted black lines across their chest, encircling the empty hole right in the center of their sternum—_

Kisuke frowns, his gaze dropping to the blanket over his legs. A Hollow? He had been saved by a Hollow?

_“—are under my protection. I will allow nothing to hurt you.”_

Slowly his memories begin to trickle back in, gaining focus and clarity with each passing second: from being chased into the Forest of Menos, nearly dying, waking up in a cave, finding out a Hollow had rescued him, being nursed back to health by said Hollow, leaving the forest, battling the Vasto Lorde, and then…

And then Ichigo had bitten him.

His fingers fly up to his shoulder, dipping beneath the garment to search for a physical wound. He feels nothing but smooth, unblemished skin instead. He looks up at Unohana in confusion. “Unohana-san, wasn’t there a bite mark here when I was brought in?” he queries hesitantly.

The dark-haired Shinigami arches an eyebrow at him. “A bite mark?” she repeats. She shakes her head. “Certainly not, or I would have noticed it. That is the strangest thing, though. You were covered in your own blood, but the only injury you sustained at the time was a bruised nose. And you were running a fever that caused your reiatsu to fluctuate in an unstable state for about three days, which thankfully broke last night. However…” She gestures at his chest, “there is a rather curious symbol there now.”

A symbol?

Kisuke hurriedly parts the black _kosode_ and its underlying garment. He instantly notices the strange tattoo directly over his heart. He traces it with his fingers, feeling nothing but his own skin, and he trembles. He can’t see it very well from above, but it looks like…

Two inverted black shoji screen doors opening up to reveal a full moon, bisected by a single crimson blade.

A mark of possession.

He can’t explain how he knows this, but in some way it feels like an intrinsic part of him, as if it is something that he’s had all his life. Feels it like a tendril of warmth curled in his chest, like an echo of fierce protectiveness anchored into his very soul.

He drops the fabric so that it hides the mark from view and looks at Unohana again. “It seems I have found my next research subject,” he says delicately, putting on his best cheerful face. Old as Unohana is, he’s sure that she can see through the cracks in his mask that this new revelation has brought about. He’s thankful when she chooses not to comment on it.

“I will let the Captain Commander know that you are awake. He will want to hear your report on the events that led to you receiving that symbol.” Unohana gracefully exits the room, leaving Kisuke in peace and darkness. He should probably go over the report in his head before he tells it to his superior. Ichigo is definitely an anomaly where it counts, and now that he knows of the existence of a class of Hollows that are more powerful than Vasto Lordes, he’s itching to hole up in his laboratory to do some research. But he has to figure out what to tell the Captain Commander first. He doubts telling him “a Hollow saved my life” would go over well, and that’s if Shinji hasn’t already mentioned it.

Not even a few minutes later the door slams open and Yoruichi throws herself over him, trapping him in a headlock that has him flailing on the bed.

_“Urahara Kisuke!_ Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” she demands, grinding her knuckles down on his head. “Huh?!”

“Ow, that hurts, Yoruichi-san! Mercy!” he chokes, slapping at her arm. “Mercy!”

She finally releases him from the headlock, her arms dropping down to hug Kisuke instead. Kisuke stays quiet, shallowly inhaling the smell of steel, tea, and lightning that he’s come to associate with his long-time friend, and relaxes into her embrace. Over her shoulder, he can see Sui-Feng lingering awkwardly in the doorway. Yoruichi’s little protégé has never made it a secret that she didn’t like him, but her arduous worship of the Onmitsukidou Supreme Commander is what keeps her from hurling words full of vitriol at Kisuke this time. She stiffens when she catches Kisuke looking at her, flushing angrily. She proceeds to march away from the room with a huff. He smothers a laugh against Yoruichi’s dark skin.

“You idiot,” he hears Yoruichi murmur quietly against his ear. She pulls back to look him in the eyes, a fond smile playing over her lips. “Welcome back, Kisuke.”

He smiles back, feeling something loosen within him at the words. “I’m home,” he says softly.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Edit 6/1:**  
>  Now part of a series!
> 
> Please leave a comment before you go~


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